


You left

by Morethancupcake



Series: Gratitude, Joy and Sorrow [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Use, Endverse!Cas, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Jealous Dean, M/M, Promiscuous Castiel, Temporary Amnesia, cas/others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He stays sober, most of the time. Dean needs him, another kind of need. He needs help figuring out easy things like the coffee machine, or the TV remote. Castiel doesn't mind, he remembers a time when Dean taught him all of this. He's patient and gentle, and he wants to drink everytime Dean smiles at him and thanks him."</p><p>Dean wakes up from a fall, and doesn't remember most of his life. Including Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You left

**Author's Note:**

> from a prompt I got on tumblr " I almost lost you"

A bit of soap. 

They went through everything, Hell, Purgatory and back. They fought witches, demons and Gods. 

A tiny bit of soap, on the corner of a dirty shower, it was all it took to erase him, them, years of pain. And the best year of Castiel's life.

Dean had woken up in a hospital bed, dizzy and barely able to speak, words still heavy on his tongue. 

He doesn't recognize Sam, and Castiel feels something like burning coal in his gut. He wants to cry, he wants to get to his knees, because Dean doesn't remember, and he looks so happy, suddenly. So carefree and light, his smile so easily given.

The doctor says something about motricity, and a difficult time ahead. Sam worries. His eyes dart from his brother on the bed to his friend at his side. 

Castiel excuses himself, pretexting a coffee run.

It takes him two hours to clean their room from his things. He has taken after Dean, the need to collect, the need to possess. He puts a few things in a duffel bag, he takes books, and some pictures. He takes the very soft henley, it still smells like Dean, and he takes the smooth stones they picked one day, walking next to a lake in silence.

He smokes for the first time in his human life. He gets it, now.

Sam looks at him with something like pity in his eyes. He watches the parking lot, outside. He sees the ballet of cars, the families, the happy leaving, the heavy staying. He doesn't want to feel anything.

Dean calls him Castiel, the name difficult, and he smiles like a very young version of himself. One he never knew. 

He sleeps in the waiting area, and brushes his teeth in the bathroom. He's not the only one looking a little rumpled and not quite right, here. For once, he fits in.

He discovers the bar, another place he fits in. Now that his Grace is gone, he doesn't need that much to feel numb. He stills needs a lot. 

Samuel tries to call him. 

He comes back in the morning, and Dean doesn't remember, still. He asks about his life, he asks about women. Castiel drinks his coffee in one gulp, burning his throat, and his eyes shoot a warning to the younger Winchester.

Castiel wins. 

He stays sober, most of the time. Dean needs him, another kind of need. He needs help figuring out easy things like the coffee machine, or the TV remote. Castiel doesn't mind, he remembers a time when Dean taught him all of this. He's patient and gentle, and he wants to drink everytime Dean smiles at him and thanks him.

Sam tries to talk to him, Sam tries. But there's nothing to say.

A few weeks, and Dean starts to show progress. He looks like himself, again. A functioning happy man. Before Hell, before Purgatory. Before everything they went through. Some things come back, like Benny. Like the Leviathans, and Bobby's death. He cries in his bed, and Castiel drinks in the library. This Dean doesn't know he used to cry on his shoulder. This Dean doesn't want his lips to drown his sorrow.

It's almost the end of summer, and he asks about Lisa, if he ever told them about the foxy yoga teacher he used to...

Castiel leaves the table. He leaves the bunker. He doesn't think much, he remembers another life, watching Dean in a garden, and he knows he can't. He can't.

A beautiful man with green eyes stares at him for a while, across the bar. His eyes aren't quite right, but he smells like Dean's aftershave, and after, he gives him something to relax. He stays at his place for a while, he's actually a sweet boy. He's just not Dean. He keeps the bottle of pills when they say goodbye. 

He comes and goes. It's hard to leave. He's like a moth, he needs the light of Dean's smile to keep him sane. He gets to the bunker smelling like road and death, like the smoke from the easy salt and burn, and the bourbon he drank on his way.

Dean watches him with something like respect, and awe. He compliments him, telling him how good of a hunter he is, what a badass he must be. Castiel just smiles, and lets Sam patch him up. Sam is mad, Sam tries to make him stay, lectures him about the alcohol. If only he knew.

Men call, sometimes. Castiel is nice to them, of course he is. They know he isn't available for anything more than what he's offering, and they don't mind. He takes their calls, he goes outside and watches the stars. He hears them talk about their lifes, about the time they had together. He doesn't feel anything anymore. He makes light promises about stopping by, he chuckles in the dark, and he misses the look of wonder on Dean's face when he comes back.

Sam screams at him one morning, smashing a mug and calling him names. He wishes he could understand, but he's so buzzed, and just not there. Sam calls him an addict, and tells him to get lost. He leaves while the brothers are fighting about him. 

He meets someone. He's not Dean, he'll never be Dean, but he cares enough to offer him a shower and his couch. It's too cold to sleep in his car. 

He doesn't take anything for almost a week, then he gets a text from Dean. 

"What's the ugly scar on my arm ? I used to have a tattoo or something ? Sam won't answer me."

He leaves again, and feels sorry for the tears in the man's eyes. They were brown. He watches the fields in front of him, and finds in himself to anwer.

"A bad decision, but it's gone now. Don't ask Sam, it'll make him sad."

They text, sometimes. Dean almost everyday. Castiel tries to answer, he relly tries, but it hurts so much.

His hands shake now.

He stays clean for a while, in a clean room next to a clean church. He doesn't pray, he can't, but it makes him feel at peace. He takes care of the garden, and talks with the old gardener about the Bible and the bees. He thinks he could get used to that life. But the old man notices the smell of alcohol, he wants Castiel to talk, and Castiel to feel.

He cries, sitting in a vegetable garden, and he screams at a God who was cruel enough to take his little heaven from him.

That night, he forgets to be careful. 

He wakes up in a shitty hospital bed. 

Dean is sitting next to him.

 

"They seem to believe we're married." he says, and Castiel wants to go back to sleep. He shakes so badly Dean takes pity on him, and he wraps his fingers carefully in his. There's a little silence, followed by : "Apparently you fucked up your liver badly enough to pass out. Aren't angels supposed to be intelligent or something ?" Dean doesn't seem mad, oddly enough. There's something he can't quite replace, but it's not that. He goes back to sleep because it's safe, and Dean's hand is warm.

"You're quite popular." he says over breakfast, helping him drink the awful tea they gave him. "Your phone kept ringing, the old man gave it to me." His eyes are hard. Now he's mad. "Were they fun, Cas ?" He shakes his head and wishes for a drink.

They're halfway through when it hits him. Dean called him an angel.

He doesn't remember. He's sure. This Dean isn't exactly his Dean. Still, some things are familiar. It's confusing. It's scary.

Sam cleaned the bunker from anything that could trigger him. Dean gets him a can of soda, and a sandwich, before taking his bag. He pauses at the kitchen door, clearly not wanting to talk, but he finally admits :

"I answered. When they called. You were under for days, and I thought they deserved to know. In case." He pauses again, then adds, words biting. "I almost lost you. They let you do that to yourself, they should know."

"Thank you for telling them." He doesn't think sorry will help. He takes a bite of his sandwich, it's so difficult to chew food.

"They knew about me." Castiel shifts his focus on his food. The crisp salad. The tomato. The bread. "They all asked if I was Dean. They knew about me."

"Yes."

Dean takes his bag to his room. It used to be their room. He ruffles through his stuff, taking care of the dirty laundry, putting the books and the memories aside, carefully as he would of old relics. He watches the pictures, taking time to study all of them. Castiel watches him.

He helps him to the shower, and he helps him into his own clothes, soft cotton smelling like laundry detergent. He helps Castiel to their old bed. 

In the dark, he says : "We are married." He takes Castiel's hand in his. "We are, it was my idea. I took you to that little chapel in that stupid town in Maine. It was raining all the time, but you said... you said..."

"It was right not to wait anymore." he can feel tears on his temple, running to his hair. He remembers the feeling of the sheets on his skin, and he white noise around him. Sam walking outside the room, the washing machine down the hall. 

"You left."

"You were happy." Dean must hear now, that he's crying, and he gets closer. 

"I can't remember. I probably won't. But I know stuff." His lips find his cheek in the dark, and they stay here. Dean's face is damp too. "The rest, you could tell me ?"

"You want me to tell you ?"

"I want you."

He cries in his hand like the little kids he used to watch from afar, thinking about a time Dean used to talk about being a father, maybe, one day. Dean holds him to his chest, and he sobs.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this on tumblr http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/116755876834/7-for-destel
> 
> This is the part when I ask you for kudos and comments because they make my day.  
> I am toying with the idea of giving this another chapter, mostly because the level of angst was too high for my taste, tell me if it's something you would be interested into. While we're at it, please remember to drink regularly and to strech.


End file.
